The Longest Day
by Aylin
Summary: I think it's justified to say that this has been one of the longest days of my life. Postwar, SSHG


**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and everything else you may recognize does not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. Now that was a surprise. And I don't make any money from this, which is rather sad, but oh well.

**Warnings:** A bit of het, a bit of angst, and a bit of sex, at least implicit. Might be a slightly depressing read, I don't know. Oh, and mentions of past character deaths. I'm not sure whether Severus counts as an alcoholic or not... nah, I don't think so.

**A/N:** It just wouldn't leave me alone until I gave in and wrote it. I swear those characters have a mind of their own! And the worst thing is... they're asking for a sequel. sigh Anyway, please review!

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**The Longest Day**

This was quite probably a highly ironic situation, he mused, but there was no way he would laugh about it. In fact, this went far beyond the realms of irony. This – this was downright sarcastic.

He'd taken every measure of precaution in his repertoire. No single person knew of his plans for tonight; he'd 'accidentally' let it slip that he would be visiting the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade. Instead of going there, though, he had Apparated into a back alley in Muggle London (breaking the law, but truth be told his situation just couldn't become that much worse). After changing into a set of dark, non-distinct Muggle clothes he had set out on a confusing path through the Great City: first by underground, then by bus, by calling a taxi. He'd taken double turns, retraced his steps, and there was not the slightest chance in Hell or Heaven that someone might have followed him.

All of that nonsense – remnants of his activities during the war, no doubt – only to end up in a Muggle pub somewhere in the bowels of London. All of that ridicule simply to get thoroughly pissed and drown his sorrows... and the rest of his sorry life, while he was at it... far away from prying stares and whispers behind his back.

To encounter this.

Upon second thought, sarcasm didn't even begin to describe what he felt.

Obsidian eyes watched discretely, but with rapt attention as the waitress made her way among the tables. Any moment now she'd arrive to take his order, and then... well, what?

He'd be damned if he had a clue.

She certainly had changed. That, at least, came as no surprise. It _had_ been years, after all. Six years since he'd heard of her disappearance. Eight years since he'd had to endure her all-too-eager presence in his classroom, back when he had still been a teacher, before –

No. He would not dwell on that now.

But he very much needed that drink he had promised himself.

Long years had gone by since he'd last thought of her. When he ever remembered her at all, he'd just assumed she was dead like all the others. Yet here she was: Very much alive, smiling at various patrons, her unruly hair caught in a functional ponytail, in clothes that hardly resembled proper, decent wizarding ribes. Serving drinks to _Muggles_.

A sorry sight, really. It reminded him of his own misery, which was even worse.

Boy, did he need that drink!

His idle musings and introspection were interrupted as he realized that the dreaded moment was drawing near. He could practically sense the proverbial sword hanging over his head when, barely glancing up, the waitress approached his table.

"Your order, sir?"

When he didn't reply immediately the woman raised her gaze from the small notepad she was carrying, and let out an audible gasp. "Snape!"

He didn't even have to think before curling his lips into the disdainful sneer she must remember from Potions class. "You seem to have a talent for stating the obvious, Miss Granger." He looked her up and down. "Not quite the outfit I remember you with, though."

The impertinent girl, no, woman blushed under his gaze, but Severus could see steel in the way she squared her shoulders. "The same goes for you... _Professor_." The way she stressed the title made it sound like an insult. Raising a mocking eyebrow she added, "So who's stating the obvious now?"

He regarded her for a moment, trying to decide on an appropriate reply. In the end he shrugged. "A scotch, then."

"Pardon?" She seemed taken aback by his statement. Good – that had been his intention.

Severus heaved an affected sigh. "My order, Miss Granger," he explained, over-enunciating the words as if talking to an imbecile. "If I'm not mistaken that is what you are here for."

Something in her eyes told Severus he had hit a nerve. If there had been any doubt left about it, the way she left without a further comment was a definite hint.

Oh well. Maybe he'd lost his power to be intimidating, but he could still be thoroughly unpleasant at least. And if that was the most positive thought he could come up with he wouldn't settle for only one drink tonight.

But was there any reason to be pleasant, even in the widest sense of the word? If so, he couldn't see it. The world had changed more than he cared to think about after the Brat Who Died After All had fulfilled his destiny. Severus remembered being angry, once, even after the truth had become public knowledge.

They had said then that he had ample reason to be grateful. The other Death Eaters who hadn't been given the Dementor's Kiss faced a lifetime in Azkaban. Wasn't he glad he had gotten off so lightly?

But the truth was that he wasn't. He had been too bitter, too hardened by heineous deeds to be grateful to stupid, patronizing, self-proclaimed heroes.

Yes, he had been angry once. Now even the anger had left him.

Once again his morose thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a brown-haired nuisance. She placed a glass in front of him with more force than was strictly necessary.

"Your drink. Sir," she added coldly after a slight pause. "If that's all..."

Later Severus would have sworn on the sad remainder of his soul that all he'd had in mind was order a second scotch. Instead he heard himself say, "I wonder what the media would have to say about your current situation."

She'd already half turned to leave, but at this comment she spun around quickly, her curls whipping across her face. "Don't you dare, you bastard!"

The exclamation was followed by shock and silence. Silence on Severus' part, who continued to look at her with the expression he had practiced the most during the previous years: indifference. Shock on the part of the other patrons.

A man at the bar cleared his throat. "That bloke giving you trouble?" he asked in Miss Granger's direction, but his eyes were focussed on Severus, assessing him.

The woman glanced back over her shoulder. "Nothing I can't handle, but thanks." She waited for the general attention to lessen somewhat before leaning closer to Severus. Her eyes were as hard and cold as stones.

"This is the only warning you'll get, Snape. I mean it. I'm no longer your student, and there's not much right now that keeps me from making your life hell. When I'm done with you you'll _beg_ for death."

Severus couldn't suppress a snort at that statement. "You're a few years too late, I'm afraid," he said with a smirk. He was tempted to reveal more – much to his own surprise. But maybe he just longed to make someone as miserable as he was.

He cut off the direction his thoughts were taking before he really said something he would regret later, and returned his attention to Miss Granger. The woman was staring at him with a calculating expression.

"If that's you trying to use Legilimency, it isn't working," he remarked dryly, shaking his head. He felt tired all of a sudden. "Now be a good girl, bring me another scotch and tend to your patrons, as they seem to be so very fond of you."

As she left he caught her mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "drop dead, Snape." He simply raised his glass in a mocking toast.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

------------------

It was not only sarcastic, but also highly irritating, Severus decided some time later. He was staring into his glass and couldn't remember drinking from it. He must have, though, for he doubted Miss Granger would have brought him an empty one. Annoying she might be, but Severus had to admit she made a competent servant.

When she came to his table for the next time, wordlessly exchanging the empty glass with a full one, he gave her a thin smile (he felt generous, after all) and didn't try to contain his curiosity any longer. "Are you trying to make a statement about house-elves by proving you can do their job just as well?"

Miss Granger closed her eyes for a second, but he'd already seen the pain in them. Interesting... When she opened them again, they were as empty as before. "Are _you_ trying to find out how much a man can drink before passing out?" she asked.

He couldn't help it. He laughed; and that showed him that her question wasn't as rhetorical as he'd assumed. "I don't remember you being so witty," he confessed – and promptly cursed himself for it.

What had happened to being unpleasant?

It was obvious he had surprised her, as well. After a second of stunned silence she sighed. "Sir, you're drunk."

"Not drunk enough yet." He forced his eyes to focus on her face, brows furrowed with the difficulty of it. Maybe she was right. He would never have asked the next question had he been sober.

"Whatever happened to you, anyway?"

Those hardened eyes narrowed. "This is neither the place nor the time," she snapped, "and it's hardly your concern anyway."

"Ah, but you'd tell me if time and place were right?" Severus chuckled, noticing as he did so that it was the first time in months. "You truly must be desperate for a sympathetic ear."

Disconcertingly enough it was now her turn to laugh, although it sounded bitter. "No offence, sir," she said, her tone indicating that what she was about to say was as offending as possible, "but the day I will ever call _your_ ear sympathetic is the day I die. And even that's an optimistic guess."

Severus nodded gravely. "Good counter, Miss Granger," he admitted. "Now kindly bring me another one." He nodded towards his glass, realized it was still full, and drained the liquid quickly.

Still not drunk enough, though.

"Sorry, sir, but I think you've had enough already."

He growled, sending her a dark glare. Pity she didn't flinch like she used to back when he'd been her teacher. How dare she try to refuse him his rights? "That's not your place to decide," he said, aiming for the dangerous purr that had always made his students shiver in fear.

He thought he saw her indeed shiver slightly, but he doubted she was afraid. He was proved right when she didn't avert her eyes. "How are you even going to return home?"

Severus rolled his eyes. Stupid girl must have spent too much time in the company of Muggles. "Apparating, of course."

"Certainly not. You'll get yourself Splinched for sure."

...Or maybe she simply turned into the stereotypical nagging woman Severus despised. "Even if I did: It's none of your business. Go away."

She didn't, of course. Severus couldn't say that surprised him; after all, she and her friends had always shown a tendency for disobeying orders. But she was silent at least, considering him again with that cold stare.

Just as he was about to repeat his order and opened his mouth, Miss Granger spoke again. _Of course._ Her words, though, made him forget about his irritation. "My shift's almost over. Come with me to my flat, and we'll get you sobered up again."

As soon as he had collected his wits again he sneered. "My, I didn't know you cared."

"Believe me, I don't," she said through clenched teeth. "But I don't want the Ministry sniffing around here, and that's what would happen if you got yourself in trouble."

Severus rolled his eyes again and shook his head. But before he could properly reprimand her for her cheek his traitorous mind intervened and made him reconsider. Why not, really? At last he settled for a grudgingly delivered "very well" and watched her shuffle away with something akin to relief on her face.

He could tell this was going to be strange.

----------------

Granger's miniscule flat was a study of how many things could be fitted into the absolute minimum of space available. It wasn't what Severus would have expected, but then again, he'd never been bored enough to imagine the living conditions of his former students.

By now he was glad he'd accepted her not-quite-gracious offer. It had been a short walk from the pub to the run-down building she housed in, but the night air hadn't cleared his head as he had hoped it would. By the time they'd reached the flat he'd felt dizzy and nauseous, and despite his effort to conceal his state he suspected the woman knew. Daft chit was probably only waiting for a good opportunity to taunt him.

He felt slightly better now, seated on a worn couch with a steaming mug of tea in his hands. Physically, at least. From a psychological point of view it was as uncomfortable as hell. Miss Granger was sitting on the floor, the only space available other than next to him, and looked everywhere but at him. The cup in her hands was trembling.

Severus would have been unable to explain what he felt as he looked at her. Categorized her. He could still sense traces of the girl who'd sat in his class long ago, but not many. No, she had the look of someone who had matured too much too fast – and too soon, he added mentally.

Once upon a time he would have found much satisfaction in encountering her like this, but those days were gone. He couldn't really remember what true satisfaction felt like, and he was too inebriated to fake.

A pity, really.

"Are you done staring at me yet?" she asked suddenly.

He blinked. "You've changed," he said instead of an answer, refusing to turn his eyes away.

"Well, so have you," she countered. "It's what time does to a person, you know." She pushed back the hair she'd finally freed from the ribbon that had tamed it earlier, meeting his gaze in what seemed like defiance. "I'm not a child anymore." It was easy, even in his drunken state, to hear the unvoiced "and you don't scare me."

"That's not what I meant." Severus shrugged. Maybe it was the scotch, maybe the surreal feeling of the whole situation, but he was truly curious by now. "I wonder what happened to make you habit this... _den_ and pose as a Muggle."

"So you are," she replied in a neutral tone. "But that doesn't change the fact that it's none of your business."

Severus cocked his head to one side, watching her. "It's not often that one meets Gryffindors with depression."

"I'm not depressed!" Granger frowned.

"No? What would you call it, then?"

That question seemed to render her speechless. After a long, tension-filled moment she sighed and averted her gaze again. "Experienced, maybe." When Severus didn't answer she continued, "what's it to you anyway?"

Severus had to consider that question carefully. If he was totally honest with himself, which he wasn't on a day-to-day basis, he'd have to say it was... longing, to his horror. Not because he liked her, surely, but she was the first person in too many years who knew about him and didn't look at him with hatred and contempt.

He returned from his bleak reverie to send the woman a dark look. "You wouldn't happen to have a drink here?"

She snorted, but Severus was unable to discern if it was in amusement or disgust, or maybe both. "That would effectively ruin the purpose of your being here."

Severus knew she had a point, but he sighed nonetheless. Was it so much to ask to escape his thoughts for a while?

Her next comment threw him off-balance. "Why do you do this to yourself? A man like you should know that salvation doesn't come in liquids."

He did his best to give her his most arrogant glare. "We have already established that my affairs do not concern you, and vice versa. However, to someone of your intelligence and your background my reason for a bit of indulging should be quite obvious."

"A bit of indulging, huh?" She chuckled darkly, and it seemed his arrogance did not have the desired effect on her. "Really, sir, I'm surprised you have the nerve to call _me_ depressed."

He raised one eyebrow. "Just what are you hinting at?"

"You must be drunk indeed if you have to ask."

There didn't seem to be a proper reply to that, and once again silence descended upon the room. The two of them studiously avoided looking at each other, each sipping their tea in the uncomfortable atmosphere.

In the end Miss Granger shook her head and put her cup down on the floor next to her. "This is getting us nowhere."

"While that may be true... what does it matter?"

It was slightly disappointing that even after all this time her emotions were so obvious and easy to read. _Gryffindors._ Severus watched her fight an inner battle and make up her courage, and waited.

"How about a truce? I must admit I'm curious. Will you answer my questions if I return the favour?" She hesitated. "We probably won't run into each other again, so it wouldn't matter in the end."

_Damn it._ He was surprised. Again. Severus took his time deciding on an answer. She did have a point – he wasn't too drunk not to see it; just drunk enough to consider it. Still, it was unusual. He would have expected her to just keep asking until she got the information she wanted, or until he was well enough to leave. Instead she actually tried to negotiate, however inexperienced. Who'd have thought...?

"You seem to surprise me quite frequently tonight," he answered carefully.

She shrugged. "I'll take that as a yes."

Severus stopped himself just in time from rolling his eyes, but the urge to do so was strong. However, his head hurt enough already, there was no need to add to the agony. "Still a know-it-all, I see," he commented dryly.

To his bewilderment her face lit up in a grin. "It's been years since I've last heard that one," she said. "Isn't it strange how we miss the simplest things?"

Severus tried to gauge from her expression whether she was dabbling in irony or maybe really as delusional as the words made her appear. She seemed serious, though, and the strangest thing was that he understood in a way he hadn't thought possible. There was nothing he wouldn't give to be back in the days when he'd still been a teacher, and she a mere eleven-year-old.

Maybe they were both delusional. He, at least, had the excuse of alcohol.

"Maybe you would hear it more often," he speculated, "had you not distanced yourself from our world so completely."

That made her eyes turn cold again. "I assure you, Snape, 'know-it-all' would be about the nicest sentiment I could expect."

Severus' eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had already noticed she was bitter, but this was almost comparable to something he himself would say. He shuddered to think that maybe her heart was as bleak as his. No, definitely something he did _not_ want to think about. "Surely you aren't serious."

"Why not?" Once again she tossed her hair back over her shoulder. Severus found himself fascinated by the wild, furious movement.

He made sure his voice carried the right amount of sarcasm as he answered. "You helped defeat the evil Dark Lord, did you not? If I remember correctly – and my memory isn't that bad yet – you were the only survivor of the innermost group. They would glorify you as a saviour."

The look she gave him was one of disbelief. "I can't believe _you_ of all people can say that with a straight face." He made a small gesture, waving at her to go on, and she seemed to understand. Her voice took on a harsh quality. "Think about it, Snape. I was the only survivor, you said it yourself. Who do you think the people would blame for the deaths? Voldemort? Hardly. He's dead, they can't make him suffer."

Even while she was speaking Severus felt the cold, hard truth settle in his mind, and to his own surprise it was accompanied by a twinge of sympathy. Yes, now that he thought about it, it was exactly what he'd expect from the wizarding world: to find a scapegoat. People were never satisfied unless they had someone to blame...

Hermione's voice cut through his thoughts abruptly. "You know, I might still have a bottle of wine somewhere."

---------------

Severus knew he would have been unable to tell how much time had passed even if his life had depended on it. It must be very late, though, or so he sensed. He'd always had a feeling for these things.

He found he didn't care.

Miss Granger – or Hermione, as she'd insisted he call her after her third glass of wine – had proved to be surprisingly nice company once she had cut down the hostility. Severus felt more alive than he ever had during the last years, and blamed it on the fact that he could converse with an intelligent human being again. Not that he was about to tell her (he wasn't _that_ drunk), but he was enjoying the night immensely.

Right now he was sitting on the floor, though he didn't quite know how he'd ended up there, with his back against the couch and his long legs stretched out in front. Miss Granger, no, Hermione was seated in front of him, right next to his legs, and judging by the animated gestures she made she was talking about something academic. He didn't know for sure, since he had stopped listening at some point. He was content to watch her and revel in the feeling of not being alone for once.

A light swat on his trouser-clad leg made him blink. "What?"

"Are you even listening?" Hermione regarded him with an expression that wavered somewhere between humour and annoyance.

"Yes..." He saw her frown. "Well, no. But it _is_ rather late."

"True." The woman hesitated for a moment. Severus noticed her cheeks were rather red. Come to think of it, how much wine was left in that bottle? "You know," she said at last with a considering tone, "this is rather... enjoyable."

"That's what I thought just then." Severus was sure it was him who had said it. At least it had sounded like his own voice. The content, however...

This was a decidedly bad idea. Severus cursed himself for forgetting who he was and who he was with simply because of some pleasant conversation. Severus Snape did not allow himself such weakness, and if there was one thing he didn't want it was pity.

He stood abruptly, looking down on her with what he hoped was a proper glare. "I will leave now."

Her confusion was evident in the way her brown eyes widened. "What? But... wait! Why?" She scrambled to her feet.

"It's none of your business." Severus took a deep breath and avoided meeting her gaze. He had to calm down to be able to Apparate.

Hermione seemed to sense what he was about to do, for it took her no longer than a heartbeat to cross the distance between them and grab his hand. "Oh no, you won't run away," she said with a bitter sound to it.

Severus growled. "I do not run away, Miss Granger –"

"Hermione."

"Don't interrupt me! This is a farce, and I will go if and when I intend to do so. Understood?"

"A farce?" she repeated, still holding onto his hand. He could feel the touch like a searing heat that slowly spread through his body. "This is no farce," she continued, all of a sudden looking scared and lost. "Don't go. Please don't go."

To say that Severus was astonished would have been a grave understatement. He swallowed, his throat too dry all of a sudden. "Why not?" he whispered.

Hermione's voice was equally low, and she wouldn't look at him. She stared down at their touching hands. "Because I haven't felt this alive in years."

Severus closed his eyes. This was too much, it couldn't be real, and if he looked at her now he'd give in and –

There was a soft touch on his cheek, and his eyes flew open again. He hadn't even heard her move closer to him, but she was standing mere inches away, one hand raised to his face. "Don't run away," she pleaded again.

He met her eyes then, trapped by the feel of her hand on his face, and knew that this would never, ever be alright. His reality was shifting too fast, he was gliding down this icy path he didn't want to take, and if he didn't stop it soon... _Merlin help me._

"Severus." The softly spoken name sounded like an enchantment. Maybe it was.

Hermione smiled slightly and moved her hand, stroking his cheek, his forehead, his brows, his _lips_, and his composure, hanging on a mere thread as it was, threatened to leave him completely.

"Hermione..." His voice sounded rough. He cleared his throat, convinced she must hear his rapidly pounding heart. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Her smile grew stronger. "I don't care. Do you?"

Severus hesitated, seriously considering that question. It had been such a long time since he had felt friendly human touch that seemed genuine. And she'd said it herself: They were unlikely to ever meet again after tonight. Looking at it this way, why was he hesitating at all?

With a growl he sent his composure packing and pulled the woman closer to him, delighting in her moan as their bodies aligned. "Bedroom?" he managed. He could only hope she wouldn't notice that he wasn't exactly coherent just then.

"Bedroom," she repeated, and Severus was pleased to note the breathless anticipation in her voice.

He was about to protest when she pulled away, but it didn't take him long to catch on as she grabbed his hand roughly and pulled him through a doorway into the next room. He didn't resist; of course he didn't.

As soon as they were past the threshold Hermione turned and stepped into his embrace. And gods, this was better than any scotch on earth, for Severus knew that this time the heady, drunken feeling had its only source in the warm body clinging to his.

When she raised to stand on her toes and kissed him on the lips he knew he was lost. Even if he had tried to he wouldn't have been able to resist; and he was far from trying, especially when he heard the tiny sound of need she made.

Severus was highly aware of fingers opening the buttons of his shirt, and he broke their kiss, wanting to watch her as she undressed him. He was puzzled to see her face devoid of any emotion, her brown eyes dark in concentration. Something about the sight struck him as wrong, though he wasn't quite sure what it was, and he was unwilling to break the mood by asking.

"Don't think so much," she admonished him, almost as if she'd read his thoughts. "There'll be time for that soon enough. But please, not now."

Severus smirked, trying to follow her advice and set his doubts aside for the moment. "Not now," he echoed her words before he bent down and kissed her again, this time with more fervour. Hermione certainly didn't hold back; it was exhilirating to experience the way she returned his passion, nibbled on his lip, sucked on his tongue, and almost ripped his shirt in her efforts to pull it off his shoulders.

"It's been too long," he whispered, but frowned upon hearing his own voice break the tension in the room. Hermione seemed to think along similiar lines, for she shook her head sharply and pulled him towards the bed.

--------------

There were enough excuses and explanations at hand to validate the fact that he had slept with her. Severus was sure of it. His jumbled thoughts, the alcohol, the atmosphere, not to mention that he wasn't cold-blooded enough to turn down an attractive woman.

However, he could think of no satisfying reason why he was still there, in her bedroom, in her _bed_, savouring the feeling of her arms wrapped around him. But he was there, and it felt wonderful.

"You'll regret this," he murmured lightly, unwilling to let go, but that didn't mean he could stop the pessimistic thoughts from invading him again.

Hermione sighed, breathing a huff of air across his neck. "Let that be my concern," she answered. "You, Severus, think far too much."

He smiled into the darkness, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't be able to see it. "Interesting what it takes to make _you_ say that."

Her reaction was a slight chuckle, the movement reverberating through both their bodies. "Sleep, Severus," she whispered into his ear, making him shiver. "It's been a long day."

Severus tried to calm his heartbeat by sheer force of will. Sighing, he relaxed, resting his head on her shoulder. "Hermione, I think it's justified to say that this has been one of the longest days of my life," he stated.

**Fin**  



End file.
